


What We Tell The Ones We Love

by pietromavximoff



Category: Captain America, Marvel, Stucky - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:08:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pietromavximoff/pseuds/pietromavximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finally tells Bucky he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Tell The Ones We Love

Steve couldn’t remember what it was like before. He and Bucky being close was something he didn’t have to think about, almost reflexive. He had been back for about a year now, and he was getting better. And in that time, Steve helped Bucky heal, taking him places he would recognise, taking him to the movies, getting him to slowly adjust to the world. And about a week ago, when they were at their apartment and Bucky was in the shower, Nat had appeared at the door. She had asked Steve casually, as she leant back on the kitchen chair, when he was going to do something about his feelings for Bucky. Steve’s eyes widened and his cheeks burned.  
‘What do you mean?’ He finally managed.  
Nat smiled knowingly and rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, come on. You know what I mean.’ She paused, tilting her head. ‘The way you look at him when he talks, the way –’  
‘Hey, Nat.’ Bucky’s voice made Steve turn around. He was wearing one of Steve’s tops, and Nat eyed it with a smirk before saying, ‘hey.’ She had shot Steve another look but they didn’t say anything else about it. A few days later, though, Steve had run into the twins at the training facility. Wanda had nudged her brother and he had sped up to Steve, stopping him in his tracks in a blur of silver.  
‘Settle a bet?’ Wanda had asked as she walked to stand next to Pietro.  
Steve crossed his arms, amused. ‘What?’  
‘You and Bucky are together, right?’ Pietro asked, his accent heavy with curiosity.  
Steve let out a nervous laugh. ‘No, we aren’t together.’ His shaky voice betrayed something that he didn’t quite understand, and Pietro and Wanda exchanged wry smiles. Maybe they did.  
‘Right.’ Wanda said, her tone sarcastic. Pietro smirked before dashing off, Wanda scowling and running after him after raising her eyebrows at Steve’s stunned face.

After that, he had been more attentive. During team meetings, when Bucky would lay across the couch, his legs over Steve’s, Steve would watch Tony get Bruce’s attention and point to them quickly, and they’d chuckle to themselves. Other times, Nat would say something to Clint and he’d look to her with a confused expression, whispering ‘what are you talking about, they’re not together’ and Steve would watch as Natasha whispered her evidence in his ear as Clint’s eyes widened, his mouth opening.

Sometimes, Steve thought Bucky wanted to tell him something. Sometimes, Bucky would look at him for too long, or let his smile drop slower than usual after Steve said something funny. Those times, Steve would open his mouth to ask, but he could never find the words.

It had hit him one day, what they were all talking about, what they all saw that Steve didn’t. It had hit him one day, he couldn’t remember when, but he remembered why. They were at home and Bucky was lying on the couch talking, not about anything special, but it was the way he was talking that made Steve put down his glass of water and use the bench behind him to lean back on. Bucky’s eyes had that spark when he talked, his tongue could make the words roll out of his mouth sharp and soft at the same time, the corner of his lips had that worn out line that told everyone Bucky had had things to say all his life; things to scream about, things to laugh about. His eyes drifted to Steve’s automatically, and Steve thought: things to love about. That was when he knew, when the realization had hit him and knocked the breath right out of his tight ribs, bones seeming to crack and heart constricting under the suddenness of this awareness. He thought, that he must’ve known somewhere, deep down, all that time ago when they were just kids, before the war, before the worst. But this was the first time that he had properly known, that he had really let himself feel it all. And he knew. He was in love with Bucky.

Later that night, after Steve had time to rehearse over and over in his head what he was going to say, what he would do, how he would stand, Bucky finally asked him why he had been acting weird that day. Steve sighed, sitting on the bed they shared as Bucky stood in the doorframe of the ensuite.  
‘I kinda realized something today, Buck.’  
Bucky tilted his head in curiosity. Steve took in a deep breath, his heart hammering against his ribcage. ‘I think I’ve always known it, deep down, but I never really thought about it, so it always stayed hidden.’  
Bucky didn’t say anything, but his eyes were widening slightly and Steve felt a bud of apprehension bloom in his chest. But he knew he had to say it, so he took another uneasy breath and willed his gaze on Bucky not to waver.  
‘I’m in love with you, Buck.’ His voice was soft, quieter than he had meant, but he knew Bucky heard when he saw his lip tremble slightly, his eyes big, shining like he was about to cry. Steve thought he heard Bucky let out a breath that sounded like ‘finally’.  
Somewhere in between the pounding of his heart and the anxious twisting in his stomach, he managed to find a way to talk. ‘What?’  
Bucky grinned, a huge smile that Steve knew took a lot. Meant a lot. Steve looked to Bucky’s hands, tied together, but Steve saw them shaking. Even the tips of his metal fingers were trembling.  
‘Been waiting for you, Stevie.’ Bucky’s voice was heartbreaking, and suddenly, Steve knew what it was like, what they all talked about when they talked about love. It was that ache in your gut, it was the skip of your heart, the lull in your voice, the lump in your throat. It was the way Bucky looked at him in that moment that he realized – it was the way he had always looked at him. And they had always loved each other, Bucky had just realized before Steve had.

His eyes told a thousand stories of how he had longed for him, a story of fear when he had been captured, a story of relief when Steve had found him, a story of worry every time they had separated, a story of anger when he had lost him, a story of familiarity when he saw him again that first time, a story of love when he had seen him again, properly.

‘Stevie.’ Bucky’s soft voice sounded something like what Steve felt. And Steve knew Bucky didn’t have to say it, and that he might never be able to say it. It was hard for Bucky, sometimes, to love things that could destroy him. But he did, anyway. And Steve knew that Bucky felt the same when he walked towards him and tugged him off the bed, brushing his lips gently across his and letting out a sigh that said finally. And even though Bucky couldn’t say it now, he tried to tell him every day after that. It was in the way he made him coffee, stirring the cup with the spoon slowly as though the metal could shatter the porcelain, it was in the way he’d see Steve’s expression after training, and rub his shoulders gently to get all the knots out. It was in the way he’d mutter against Steve’s neck in the dead of night when he thought he was asleep, telling him everything that he couldn’t when he was awake. It was in the way Bucky would watch Steve as he spoke about him to others with adoration when he thought he wasn’t listening, the way his eyes would sparkle and everything would be brighter, just like that.

And one day, when Bucky was too tired of stopping himself, too reckless to care about what could happen, he’d be able to tell Steve that he loved him. What he’d wanted to say all along.


End file.
